Well, not exactly. We were just driving into the little town of Seward when we saw fireworks come into view, it was still fairly bright out at midnight it being Alaska, but we could see the pyrotechnics fairly well. Unfortunately we only caught the tail end of the show, but what we saw was nice and sort of better being in the car, listening to music, watching the sparkling lights over the road. Beautiful, if a little shortlived.
Now came the real adventure. Seward is a town of almost 3,000 people (according to Wikipedia), but during the Mount Marathon race the town swells to almost 4,500 people. Most of them camping out in tents and RVs scattered throughout the area, a great majority of them down by the beach. We hadn't made prior arrangements, imagining instead in a state of this size one could pitch a tent in the woods (something we have lots of here!) without complication or compunction. Well, I wouldn't have had any compunction regardless. But every damn campground was full. The woods were full. How was this possible? It's Alaska.. the state is twice the size of Texas, larger than all but 18 sovereign nations, with a fraction of the population. In a place so free, so wild... you're not allowed to camp just anywhere! Apparently you have to be packed onto a tight little area of private land less than ten feet from your neighbor's tent, fire, car, or RV. It seems camping in Chugach is not allowed, at least as far as we could find at that late hour. At one point we were sure we'd found a spot, but apparently it was in a tsunami AND rock-avalanche zone, so that was a no-go. It was late, I was slightly tipsy and it was the 4th. I was working myself into a patriotic frenzy of pissiness and frustration over exercising our right to assemble on national lands. I'm pretty sure that's why they have those damn Rainbow Gatherings!--of which, I am a fan. Before I upset Rudie too much with my ranting and political rhetoric, I took it upon myself to pipe down on my pipe dreams and rolled over in my seat and took a nap.
Abrubtly, I awoke. Rudie had pulled in somewhere a little outside of town and parked. It was a campground. Okay, really it was a yard. A yard that someone was co-opting as a campground to make some of that sweet, sweet cashy money for the fourth. Nothing celebrates America quite like some good old fashioned capitalism! All our neighbors were tucked in their tents and it was almost actually dark.. probably around two am or so. Rudie quickly set up the tent, climbed in, and collapsed and I followed suit. The sun rose two hours later and I slept in an hour after that.. it was five thirty and all sorts of birds were making a commotion. I laid around listening to the songbirds I had missed all winter long, and then around seven o'clock a cock crowed and I felt good being up before the rooster. I read Billy Collins' The Art of Drowning, entirely, laying in the tent bundled in sweaters and coats and hat and many, many blankets, laughing often and once overcome with that creeping choked-up feeling one gets in one's throat during poignant moments. And then I crept off into the woods to take a piss. When I came back our neighbors had risen and were making coffee and smoking cigarettes. I badly wanted both, but we had no coffee and I've given up cigarettes. I listened to their conversation, I felt no guilt about eavesdropping, probably because they were speaking German. Finally, at ten or so, Rudie rose and we packed up camp and headed back towards downtown Seward...
The Mount Marathon race is one of the most grueling footraces in the world, and it's also one way Alaskans celebrate Independance Day. Spectators come from all around the state, country, and as witnessed by our German neighbors and a few festival attendees, the world. It's an awesome experience, not only to marvel at the physical capabilities of the human body and the sheer tenacity of will, but to be able to do such while eating cotton candy, ice cream, and a philly cheesesteak. I felt truly American. Even though I was eating a gyro.
But that's enough about food! Back to the race. The race originated as a bar bet almost a hundred years ago, between two "sourdoughs"--or Alaskan tough guys/oldtimers... I like to imagine them drinking heavily and one, being inebriated and a bit cocksure, fires off something truly insulting and degrading about the other man's virility or some such, to which he replies "Oh yeah, well I could beat you up that mountain" at which point he stares around himself completely and points to the tallest, steepest, closest mountain... and there it began. Oh, and the loser had to buy the crowd a round. In reality, this is a bit of folklore further embellished by me, but the official race records have the first in 1915. The race is a mile and a half up the mountain and then a mile and a half back down.
Here's a map of the race route with some helpful tips. Larger version here.
Note: Not all men are dressed as sensibly as the
gentleman in this diagram! We saw Gumby doing the race and he wasn't wearing anything at all! So along with this insane footrace, the small town of Seward turns out the town for a street festival of sorts. There was food, everything your heart--oh, I mentioned that already? Sorry.. Tents serving beer and playing music, live bands, stands selling useless knickknacks for the kiddies like inflatable rubber horses on wooden sticks.. All shops were open and taking on tourists with great joy! We even caught an aerial ballet and acrobatic routine put on in the streets by the Aerial Angels. I had a frontrow seat! Indian style in a circle surrounded by thirty children under the age of 10. I quite enjoyed their comedic schtick, as well.
I'd love to catch one of their shows in Anchorage sometime, I imagine it's fire and fun with a bit of burlesque as well.
Anyway! After taking in all the fair had to offer me and Rudie walked up (past the hospital, which Rudie observed was just good city planning) to the base of the trail where tons of people were gathered to watch the runners ascend, and in 45 minutes descend. You crane your neck back and look almost straight up to watch with amazement--or at least we did. This is just another day, another race, another marathon for Alaskans. I forgot to mention there is a juniors division and when we were walking around downtown I saw wee preteen girls hitting the finish line to the joy of their families. Someone was on duty the entire race at the finish line with a hose, which I believe served well in a few different functions. Cooling runners down, discouraging crowd members from wandering anywhere near the finish line, quickly dispelling any post-race vomit so the next finisher has a clean place to do the same.. hey they just ran three miles through tough terrain, 20 degree temperature change, and an average incline of 35 degrees--they deserve a clean-ish place to puke.
We were only at the bottom for the end of the men's division, gathered with one of Rudie's coworkers and her friends. Apparently, his boss' son (and the coworkers boyfriend) was taking on the mountain and lots of friends had turned out to support him. Everyone chitchatted until the first runner descended, whereupon I repositioned myself to get a better view of the descent. I kid you not, some of these men tumbled down the last 30 feet, into rocks or trees or whatever. Some of them skipped. My favorite was the young man who jumped, clicked his heels together and when landing from that little antic fell, rolled head-over-heels and then popped back up to do another heel-tap. He fell with finesse and grace, and for that, he got my biggest round of applause. A good deal of the gentlemen made it down the last leg of the trail without any problems, not even a slight mistep, but that doesn't mean they didn't bite it somewhere on the trail. A few men were bruised and bloodied up fairly badly, and I'd read accounts of a few snapped ankles in years' past. These people were serious. One guy had a headwound and was using his shirt as a bandage.
Shortly after leaving the aquarium we both decided it was time to head home to Soldotna. We'd walked quite a bit that day, all over Seward a few times, and the hike the day before had been exhausting. I'm still not sure if it was the festival atmosphere or all the people in the downtown during the day, but I was enchanted with Seward.. the sailboats in the marina, the centralised layout of the city, something about it charmed me quite a bit and I look forward to another trip there, sometime. Even if the Campground Is Full.
If you'd like to see more pictures from the race, the aquarium, or the Aerial Angels: Here!
Beware, there are adorable puffin pictures within.
Here's an article from the Anchorage Daily News with awesome galleries of the race.
Happy trails and safe travels...
Here's an article from the Anchorage Daily News with awesome galleries of the race.
Happy trails and safe travels...
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